


Indie Flick

by slutbumwalla



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 20:26:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8504233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slutbumwalla/pseuds/slutbumwalla
Summary: If the star trailer's a'rockin...





	

You sigh as you trudge towards the talent trailers, pages in hand. They hadn’t even begun filming today and you’re already putting out fires. You stop at Tom’s trailer and knock. Sometimes he played his music too loud, you’re hoping you wouldn’t have to resort to banging your fists against the door because it might be so cathartic you wouldn’t stop. 

Fortunately you heard him yell “Hold on!”, so you waited until the door swung open and he popped out a mussed head of hair. 

“Pages.” you said shortly, holding them up. 

“You’re doing PA work now? How low budget are we?” he grinned, swinging the door open wider in invitation and retreating back inside. 

“We’re having wardrobe issues, I had to assign your PA elsewhere. She wasn’t happy about it...” you said wryly as you climbed in, tossing Tom’s new script changes onto a small table before turning around to see him standing in front of his mirror in the most ridiculous shirt you’d ever seen. “WHAT are you wearing?”

Tom frowned and shifted, “It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?”

“Well…” you crossed to him, reaching up and trying to fix whatever was off about the shoulders, “What are you going for, here? Middle-aged divorced dad in Vegas for the weekend?”

You’d expected Tom to laugh, but instead he gave a deep sigh and whipped the shirt off, heading towards the closet. You took in the view of his long, lean back as he retreated, raising your eyebrow and wondering if this was what the PA was huffy about. Was he just regularly running around half naked in front of the crew? No wonder the girl had looked so sour at the prospect of not getting to see him today.

“None of these are good, are they?” Tom’s deep voice rang out from the nook that held the closet. 

You wandered over to where he stood, a little wary of your physical proximity. He was standing, hands on hips that were barely holding up a pair of fitted slacks, his torso just out there, muscles flexing under his frustrated breathing, glaring at his clothes. 

You slid into the small space in front of him and took a peek at what he was looking at. He seemed to be focused on a collection of five shirts, gently swaying from the way he’d rifled them. 

“Well…” you started, reaching out to flip through them. You were keenly aware of how close Tom was behind you, which made it hard to concentrate. You held a shirt and focused on it. It was a hideous paisley number that Tom really could never hope to pull off. “What are these for?” you asked, bewildered. 

“I asked my stylist to send me some different things. I’m tired of the suit and tie look.” He said, reaching past you to pluck the paisley one from your hand. You caught a whiff of his deodorant or his aftershave, something clean and masculine and delicious smelling. He touched your hip as he scooted past you and you practically jolted into the closet. You sighed, staring at the offending shirts with your mouth pressed into a firm line. This is what you hated about hanging around Tom for too long. You could sustain a cool detachment from him for maybe 5 minutes, but much past that he always started to get to you. 

You emerged from the closet nook and leaned against the wall, watching as he buttoned the terrible shirt up. “Well, first of all, that’s too big.” you said, fighting the urge to go roll up his sleeves, “Second, that pattern does nothing for you. You’re not that quirky, paisley-type of Englishman.”

Tom looked at his reflection, clearly unhappy. “You’re right.” He whipped the shirt off and you quickly darted out of the way as he returned to his closet and pulled out one of his more standard blue button-downs. 

Hmm. He was in a mood, you realized. 

“Why are you suddenly trying on hideous shirts? You look absolutely fine in that. That works for you.” you gestured towards him as he buttoned up his shirt and rolled up the sleeves. “You’re a clean and classic guy, you own the tailored look, you’ve got that James Bond thing going, or like…” you paused to think, “a sexy businessman vibe. Those,” you waved towards the closet, “are just your stylist trying to reinforce that point with you. Those clothes are terrible and she did that on purpose.”

Tom was now standing in the center of the trailer, fully dressed, you were sorry to note, with his arms crossed, regarding you with a smirk. His blue-gray eyes were fixed on your face, amusement dancing in them. “Sexy businessman?” he asked, smirking. 

You rolled your eyes, refusing to let him feel like he’d caught you out at something. There was an entire planet who knew Tom was sexy, you hadn’t given anything away by admitting it. “Yeah, you know, the whole like…jetsetter CEO on a private plane thing. I don’t know. You look good when you’re being crisp and dashing and seem just out of reach. Those clothes,” here again you pointed towards the closet, really trying to drive home your disdain for them, “are all for dudes who try too hard. Keep your look simple, it works for you. You don’t need much.”

He’s gazing at you, the amusement in his eyes replaced by something else. “Do I seem just out of reach?” he asked quietly. 

You shrugged, ignoring the prickle his tone sent up your spine. “Yeah, kinda. It’s your thing.”

“Is that why I didn’t know you were dating again?”

This question not only floors you, but makes you blush. You’d been fresh out of a relationship at the start of this film, and Tom had sort of asked you out one night. You’d awkwardly excused yourself, explaining to him that you just weren’t ready and you’d really prefer to be friends, which you had seemed to be heading towards before he made his move. You stared at him now, a blank look on your face. How did he know you were dating again? And, more importantly, did he still care? 

“I overheard you talking with Laura earlier today.” He said, by way of explanation. “I thought you’d gone off dating.” He quirked a brow in your direction.

“Well…” you pause, arms crossed over your chest. “I had. I didn’t know I had to put a notice out when I felt like being back on the market.” You weren’t sure where this was going, but you thought back to this morning, when you’d been showing Laura pictures of the guy you had a date with this weekend. You winced when you remembered that you had both been kind of making fun of him for being super hot but unable to spell anything correctly. You double winced when you remembered you might have said something along the lines of being fine with him being dumb so long as his penis was functioning enough to get you out of your self-imposed rut and back in the game. Geez, you could be so crass sometimes. It was supposed to be a private joke with your friend, but now Tom was slowly stalking across the trailer towards you, a blazing look in his eyes. 

“What are you doing?” you tried for a withering tone as he backed you against the wall, but it came out too breathy. If you hadn’t given yourself away before, that one tremulous whisper sealed the deal.

“Come out with me this weekend.” It wasn’t a question, it was a demand murmured against your lips as the fresh, clean smell of him invaded your nostrils. You shook your head no and he grinned, brushing his mouth against your lips slowly, carefully, before capturing them in a searing kiss that stole your breath. His arms moved to drag you to him, pressing you against the solid wall of his chest as he slowly walked you backwards, mouths tangled all the while. You didn’t know how long you stayed that way, moving against each other, soft lips teasing, tongues darting in and out, until he simultaneously ground into your hips and bit your lower lip, dragging it slightly. You heard a small, keening moan and realized it was coming from you. 

You broke the kiss, suddenly becoming aware of the fact that you’d been driven up the wall and one of your legs was hitched over his hip, his hand wrapped around your thigh to hold you in place. You also became keenly aware that you were suddenly and unexpectedly screaming wet with sexual need at 10:30 in the morning.

“I…” you were dazed as you broke the kiss, coming up for air and looking around his trailer, “I don’t remember how I got here.”

Tom grinned, moving to nip his teeth along your jawline, kissing and biting the sensitive skin under your ear. You shuddered. 

“Come out with me.” He repeated his demand, grazing his lips over the delicate ridge of your ear. You gasped. That was too much - your ears were super sensitive, you could feel yourself losing control and it was like he’d just pressed a warning buzzer. You dropped your leg and pushed at his chest, making him frown down into your suddenly panicked face. 

“What’s wrong?”

“We can’t do this. We work together!” you pulled away from the wall but he quickly reeled you back, planting his hands on either side of your head, caging you in. 

“What does that matter?” he demanded. 

“Um, because we WORK TOGETHER.” How was this not getting through to him? Clearly his enormous erection was impeding his thought process. 

“People who work together date all the time. It’s how 90% of relationships start.”

“No,” you argued, “90% of normal relationships start online, no one dates anyone they know anymore.” You could hear how ridiculous your argument sounded, but you weren’t prepared to back down from this. You absolutely couldn’t date Tom Hiddleston. Aside from your professional reputation taking a hit around the set, you weren’t prepared for the kind of attention dating him would bring. 

“Oh, is that what you mean to do? Find some random guy to fuck online?” You could hear the edge of anger in his voice as he shifted towards you again, pressing you to the wall, his goddamn distracting erection pressing into your lower abdomen. Jesus, you were going to be wet all day now and there was nothing to be done about it because you were eventually going to have to stop this. In fact, you were stopping it now.

“Tom, stop. I can't.”

“Bet you can.” He growled, low and dangerous, before lowering his face to reclaim your lips. Fuck. You made no attempt to stop his gentle assault, tasting his tongue as it lashed against yours, straining not to lose yourself in the sensations as you fought a serious sexual fog that was threatening to descend. The sound of your own moan broke through your daze, and you pulled, once more, from his kiss. You were dismayed to find your leg was back up around his waist. How did that keep happening? 

“I need a better reason from you.” He intoned, letting you catch your breath but gripping your thigh tightly, intent on keeping you wound up around him. 

“Ok,” you said, recognizing that trying to squirm out of his grip was only making things more…well, they weren’t making anything better, considering how firmly he had you trapped against the wall. You leaned your head back, closing your eyes to avoid his determined stare as you worked out your best argument. Steeling yourself, you opened your eyes and met his intense gaze with your own, “I don’t want to go through the rest of this film being known as the girl who’s fucking the star and I don’t want my personal life put under a microscope, either.”

At this he sighed, dropping his forehead down to meet yours as he took a moment to think. 

“Well, we have a problem.” He finally said, his deep voice rumbling seductively. He raised his head and looked down into your face, surprising you when he brought his free hand up to stroke a long finger along your cheek, “Because I don’t want to see you, or hear about you, with anybody else. I want you. I’ve spent three bloody months waiting for you to come around. And judging from very recent events…” he gently rocked his hips against you, causing you to suck in a breath, “I’m fairly confident that you want me, too. So far, so good. But…” he paused, now struggling to find a resolution, “you have problems with people knowing about it?”

You eyed him warily, not sure you were liking where he seemed to be going. You weren’t going to be his secret fuck buddy, if that’s what he was getting at. You didn’t want to be known as his piece of ass, but you didn’t want to be anybody’s dirty secret, either. 

He caught your expression. “I’m going to have a problem if people don’t know,” he said, gently. “I’m going to want everyone to know you’re mine.” At that he runs his lips along your jawline, nipping possessively at your skin. 

Why those words were like catnip, you didn’t know. You weren’t particularly someone who liked to “belong” to anyone, but when it was Tom…you closed your eyes as he continued his ministrations along your jawline, down your neck, sending shivers down your spine. Somehow with Tom things felt different. 

“Come out with me. Tonight.” He pleaded, sounding remarkably gentle and patient. 

You opened your eyes, once again meeting his clear blue gaze, only now you didn’t have any of your defenses up. If you were honest with yourself, you wanted this. You’d wanted it since the first time he’d taken your hand to shake it and you’d felt the chemistry spark through you, such a long-forgotten feeling after the slow decline of your previous relationship. Months of dodging and ignoring and pretending he was simply a coworker you got along with had begun to weigh on you. Now, tangled up against a wall with him, under the intensity of that disconcertingly blue gaze, you realized you didn’t have the energy to fight it anymore. 

“Fine.” you huffed out.

He smiled as wide as you’d ever seen him and dipped his head to kiss you full on the lips again. “Excellent. I’ll pick you up at 8:00.” He said, pushing off you, leaving you cold and flustered and completely confused. He sat down on the sofa and picked up his pages as you continued to stare at him. 

He looked up with a smirk. “Problem?”

“Um, yeah. I have to go through the rest of my work day like this.”

He smirked even harder, somehow. “Like what?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, then decided two could play at that game. “Never mind. It’s nothing.” You strode towards the door, wondering if you were going to be forced to find a private bathroom and masturbate at work for the first time in your life. You’d never understood how guys could do that, even if they were just joking, but today brought new understanding. Sometimes that need for release was serious. 

You’d almost made it to the door handle when you felt his arm around your waist, pulling you tight against him as his hardened cock pressed against your backside through his trousers. 

“Don’t go off in a strop.” He murmured against your ear. “I don’t want to fuck you until I’ve taken you out properly, is all. I’ve made a mistake letting things get this far, but someone," he nipped at your earlobe playfully, "was very hard to convince.” 

You smiled. That was actually kind of sweet. But you still felt the need to punish him a little. He hadn’t needed to dry hump you against his trailer wall, he could have talked to you about dating like you were reasonable people. 

Maybe. 

“No worries,” you said, loftily, “I’ve just realized this is probably, uh…” you smirked, pressing your ass into his erection, “not as affecting for me as it apparently is for you. Now,” you pushed off and made for the door handle again, “if you’ll excuse me, I have-” 

Once again you were yanked towards him, and you laughed as he tickled the back of your neck with his mouth. His teeth traced a slow line up to your ear, setting off squeals from you that distracted from the fact that his hand was moving towards the waistband of your jeans. He slipped in like lightening, sliding through the stretchy fabric and cupping your mound, his cold fingers sinking into your hot, wet heat. You gasped and tried to grab his hand but it was too late. The long, graceful fingers you’d always admired were now spreading you, dipping into the velvet wetness that was giving you away. 

“Hmmm…” Tom hummed against your ear as he stroked, “Not affected?”

“Fuck,” you muttered, both out of frustration and pleasure as his fingers continued to dip and swirl. His free hand moved from where it was holding your hip in place against him, shifting up under your shirt to pull the cup of your bra over your breast and flick a sensitive nipple to life. You gasped and ground your backside against him, reaching behind you to grasp his hips and push harder into him.

“Shit,” Tom breathed into your neck, “This may have been a bad idea. I can fucking smell you from here and I have never wanted to fuck someone so much in my entire life.”

You grabbed his hand and tugged so that he reluctantly pulled it from your jeans, then you spun around in his arms and pressed against him. “Ok,” you whispered, nipping at his mouth with your teeth, “Let’s go.”

Tom groaned. “No. We can’t. I want to do this right.”

“Well, you should have thought about that earlier.” you said, matter of factly, as you wrapped your arms around his neck and brought his face down to yours, “Neither of us are going to be fit to work in this state, and you’re probably going to have someone banging down your door any minute, so let’s make this quick.”

“No.” He said, his voice reflecting his agony, “Don’t ruin this for me.” Now it was his turn to be on the defensive as you backed him against the wall. You reached up and brought his lips to yours and he quickly claimed your mouth, wrapping you tight in his arms as you traced the ridge of his upper lip with the tip of your tongue, causing him to groan. 

“I’ll sort you.” He said, wildly, trying to regain control as he spun so that you were back against the wall. He shoved a knee between your legs, sliding a hand down the front of your jeans again as he brought his mouth crashing around yours, absorbing your moans as his fingers spread you wide and he circled them, rubbing and dipping into you as he tried not to think about how much he desperately wanted his cock there instead. Fuck, he’d fucked this right up. He increased the thrust of his fingers, hooking them inside you while rubbing his thumb up against your clit as you writhed, soaking, against his hand. 

“Tom.” you murmured through his kiss. He kissed you harder, wanting your moans back in his mouth. 

“Tom!” you said, more insistently. 

“What, darling?” he breathed, moving his mouth along your face, trailing his teeth down your jaw. 

“I can’t come unless you fuck me.” You whispered, your breath shallow in his ear, blowing across a ticklish spot on his neck and nearly shattering his resolve. 

There was a pounding at his door, someone calling his name.

“GO AWAY. IMMEDIATELY.” Tom roared out, then, banging his head on the wall in frustration, he called out in a more temperate voice, “Just give me ten minutes! Ten, twenty minutes!”

He looked down at you, saw your beautiful face covered in a thin sheen of sweat, your eyes wide and glazed. “Please.” you said, your hand moving down to rub his cock through his slacks. 

“Fucking hell.” He said, broken. He withdrew his hand and tore at your jeans, popping the button and shoving them roughly down your thighs as you undid his trousers and pushed them down, glorying as you saw his impressive cock spring free. 

He picked you up and hauled you down on the sofa as your flats went flying. He pulled your jeans the rest of the way off and hooked your legs around his hips, spreading you wide as he leaned over you, looking into your eyes. “I wanted our first time to be nice and slow and romantic, but we’re going to have to knock this one out and I’m going to have to find a way to make you pay for driving me this crazy.” 

You smiled up at him, thoroughly enjoying yourself, and he grinned down at you briefly before he covered your mouth with his and he drove into you with force, wrenching from you a low, guttural moan as you scrambled to take in the size of him. He gave a few pumps, pushing deeper into your tightness with each thrust, keeping his mouth working over yours until your moans quieted. Once you seemed adjusted, he straightened up, pulling one of your ankles up to his shoulder as you lifted your hips, providing him the perfect angle at which to sink deeper into you. You gasped and pulled one of the sofa cushions over your face, trying to stifle the noise even as your hips bucked up towards him. Tom closed his eyes and focused, listening to your breath hitch with every thrust, spurring him to thrust harder. Your small, quiet moans pushed him closer to the edge. He’d waited so long…so long for this. He watched as you lifted your arms above your head, hands searching so you could brace yourself against the alcove the sofa was built into, arching your back to invite more of him in. He groaned, hands flying to your hips to steady you as he fucked you harder, the tight, slick feel of you more intense than he’d ever imagined, since he had never accounted for how satisfying it would be to hear you moan for him or how the sweet, honeyed smell of you would drive him crazy. 

He looked down to watch as his hips snapped into you, erotic sparks shooting off in his head at the sight of his engorged cock slamming into your tight, wet pussy over and over. He ran one palm down your stomach, moving so he could flick a thumb over your swollen clit, and that was all it took to make your hips jolt forward as you tightened around him, your walls constricting as you came hard, triggering his release as your insides pulsed wildly. He pumped into you, feeling himself draining as you came around him, face still shoved in a pillow to cover your screams. 

He collapsed on top of you, utterly exhausted. He may have said “Oh, fuck”, but he also may have just thought it. He wasn’t sure he had the energy for words. Or thoughts. He knocked the sofa cushion aside and nuzzled into your chest, listening to your heart pound through your t-shirt, and he idly wondered why he hadn’t thought to remove it. Your naked breasts were fairly high up on his list of things he wanted to see before he died. He’d only just caught the barest idea of how they bounced when he was fucking you. 

You had the briefest of moments to wind down before the pounding at the door returned. “Tom, we’re waiting. Are you ready, dude?”

“Fuck me.” He mumbled, but he made no effort to get up. 

In the end it was you who moved, pushing him back as you sat up to recover your pants and find your shoes. He watched for a moment with a hazy expression, eyes on your heavenly bare ass before it disappeared from his view. He was delighted to have finally gotten you naked and under him. And he’d have you again tonight. The prospect gave him a little burst of energy. 

“Hold on!” Tom called as he rose from the sofa and pulled himself together. He straightened himself in the mirror, remussed his hair the right way and turned to find the trailer apparently empty. What the fuck? He strode to the only closed-off room in the trailer and found you leaning against the bathroom wall, staring at the ceiling. “What the fuck are you doing?” he asked, confused. 

You looked at him like he was crazy. “Hiding. I’m not coming out of your trailer with you when you’re twenty minutes late to set and this whole room smells like sex. I’ll wait until you’re gone.”

“I thought we agreed we weren’t going to hide?” he asked, frustrated. 

“Well, technically we’re not dating yet, so we can have this conversation tomorrow. For now I need you to leave so I can wait ten minutes and then sneak out of here.”

Tom shook his head, but he didn’t have time to argue as the pounding on the door had resumed. He reached for you, pulling you to him for one more kiss. “Eight o’clock tonight. We do this properly. Deal?” 

You smiled back at him, and it was dazzling. “Deal.”


End file.
